


Thoughts of Home (On Hiatus)

by outcastsnmagic



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outcastsnmagic/pseuds/outcastsnmagic
Summary: Sometimes our journeys are not what we expect.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

Long ago, in a land far, far to the East, in a place unlike any traveler has seen, there existed the greatest kingdom of Middle Earth. Built into the very roots of the dazzling, snow-covered peak of the Lonely Mountain, above the thriving human city of Dale, this fortress city, Erebor, was home to the mightiest of the dwarven houses, the House of Durin.

Its tall arched gate was flanked on either side by an impregnable bulwark of dark green stone that looked as though it could have stretched the length of the mountainside. And if one walked along its battlements they would be able to see Dale, and the land beyond, maybe even as far as the forests of Mirkwood. On the very ends of this bulwark stood two massive statues, dwarven in their likeness and poised in a battle stance like dormant sentinels ready to awaken and defend their home. The walls and the high vaulted ceilings supported by tall arched pillars were chiseled from green marble. The walkways were polished smooth until they were like mirrors, where the light of the braziers could be seen dancing, filling the halls with warm golden light. 

Much of Erebor’s commerce lay in the wealth and riches that flowed from its halls in the form of gems, precious stones and metals, hewn from the very rock of the mountain. The ore they pulled from the earth was crushed, smelted and placed in giant furnaces kept warm by fires hot as a dragon’s breath. The weapons and armor fashioned by the hands of the dwarves was unmatched in all the land, in craft and durability. From gold, silver and all matter of soft metals, they crafted fine jewelry inlaid with rubies, sapphire and diamonds. 

Erebor, the jewel of the East, was to be ruled by Thorin, son to Thrain, grandson to Thror. He was proud, with a warrior’s heart and a strong sense of loyalty and duty to all dwarven kin. Though for all his quality, he held great distrust, and a fierce protectiveness of Erebor’s wealth.   
Upon the eve of Durin’s Day, a great feast was held, for Thorin was to be crowned. Many folk from across the land came to give tribute, men from the far city of Gondor, even the elves of Mirkwood, gifted him with trinkets of splendor. It was during this ceremony that an unlikely guest made an appearance, an old haggard woman hooded and cloaked in a tattered grey robe. 

Her face was old and weathered, as though she’d seen many seasons. A light grey hair speckled with silver streaks adorned her head, her walk hobbled if not for the gnarled, twisted branch she used as a walking stick. Despite her pitiful appearance her eyes shown brightly like fire under the shadow of her hood.

The young dwarf king looked on at the old woman with mild interest, and asked what brought her to the grand halls of the House of Durin. The old woman answered simply, ‘to offer the king a gift’. With that the she held out her hand. In her palm lay a simple stone. It was light grey in color, oval in shape and all of its edges weathered smooth with the passage of time. She said the stone was to be placed as the centerpiece on the king’s throne, that all might look upon it and know its worth.

The young king regarded the stone with scrutiny, a poor tribute compared to the wealth of Erebor in his mind. He asked the old woman how such an insignificant thing like a stone from a riverbed could ever reflect the grandeur of the hall of a king. And to that the woman responded that even the smallest things have significant worth, even if it cannot be seen. 

Believing it to be false but not wanting to turn away the woman’s offering, the dwarf king took the stone, but he did not place it on the throne. Something of more worth should be placed above the crown of a king, he thought.

That night the young king tossed and turned in a feverish fit, awaking with a violent cry. His skin cracked like a dry lakebed in the hot sun, dark scales forming all over his body. His fingers turned to giant claws, and his heart burned as giant black wings grew from his back. His voice became a deafening roar that echoed through the cavernous halls. 

That night the kingdom of Erebor fell to ruin, consumed in the fury of a firestorm that sent sparks high into the night sky. And the beast, once a mighty king, remained, stricken with anger and grief among the desolated halls, for the words of the old woman rang clear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days are not your days.

The sun awoke him much the same as it did every day, as a soft golden ray that bathed the room in warmth. At seven ‘o clock he stoked the hearth, waking the coals from their slumber and nursing it to a gentle flame, adding a log or two if needed. Here a kettle of water would sit to boil for his morning tea. At seven-fifteen he’d eat a filling breakfast of eggs, cheese with sliced ham and sweet fruit, perhaps with a slice of toasted bread as well. By eight he’d be bathed and dressed and out on his porch enjoying the crisp morning air with a pipe of Old Toby.

It was a simple routine, but one Bilbo Baggins was accustomed and comfortable to. Much like the Shire itself, nestled in an earthly valley with rolling hills as far as the eye could see, far away from the troubles of the world of large people, Bilbo kept to a quiet life. If he could avoid conflict of any sort he would, whether it be trouble brought in from the outside world, or the incessant threat of distant relatives looking to pull the rug from under his feet. Too much drama meant less time to read, cook and smoke and more time to worrying about trivial things. It was a good humble life, and he wouldn’t ask for more than that. 

Though for all the comfort and isolation the Shire brought, the troubles of the greater world would seep in inevitably. Trouble took the form of an odd group of travelers that happened upon the morning market. They were strange folk, stout and broad shouldered, maybe a foot or so taller than a hobbit, clad in furs and leather. Their eyes were hard, their cheeks and noses prominent features aside from the full, groomed beards that adorned their chins. 

From the looks of them they seemed to be dwarves, perhaps from the Blue Mountains to the southwest. It was said a great diaspora of dwarves passed west a long while ago, making a home for themselves in the Blue Mountains, and that is the reason dwarves may often be seen near the Shire and surrounding land. He’d heard stories of dwarves passing through the Shire occasionally, most headed for Bree or the far Eastern cities of men but to see them was an entirely new experience.

There were five of them milling about in the market as one was asking questions about the area around. Bilbo was purchasing ingredients for his supper when he overheard these strange folk conversing with one of the shopkeepers.

“You’ll to take the road East toward Bree,” the shopkeeper answered, pointing to the road out of Hobbiton, “Most folk stop there for news from abroad.”

Bilbo glanced casually over at the group from where he stood at the fishmonger’s stand. Of the dwarves, the eldest, Bilbo figured because of his etiquette and snow white hair, continued to converse with the shopkeeper. Behind him there stood two younger dwarves, one with bright blonde hair and full beard, the other with dark hair and slight stubble. They were chatting amicably, youthful eyes gazing in wonder about the market. Next to them an even younger dwarf stood clutching a leather-bound book scribbling away at its pages. 

It was an odd sight indeed. Not many who traveled through the Shire ever really stopped, or even took the time to marvel in the simple life of hobbits. But these dwarfs seemed unperturbed by it. 

The final dwarf of their company stood a little ways away. He had bright red hair much like the dwarf with the book, but his was done up in all manner of braids unlike anything Bilbo had ever seen. This dwarf was nonchalantly admiring a stand of apples when Bilbo saw him swipe one and stuff it in his pocket! And from farmer Maggot no doubt, who hated when anyone got into his crop. Bilbo glanced around to the market but it seemed no one else noticed. On any other occasion he would have just let it go. It was mainly hobbit children swiping what they could from the stalls, and often they had their parents to answer to if they got caught. But a dwarf from a far off place, one that looked as though he might have a knife or two up his sleeve? That was another story entirely and Bilbo was sure no hobbit would dare take on folk as intimidating as outsiders. 

Bilbo turned to leave, having got what he came for, but his conscious tugged at him. Maybe this wasn’t something to just let go. 

Setting his basket off behind a barrel where it would be out of the way and not taken, Bilbo slowly made his way over to the group of dwarves. He turned away every now and then pretending to browse the stalls. Several shopkeepers greeted him and he made what little small talk he could before moving on. Blast being known by probably most everyone in town it was both a boon and bane of the Shire. 

Bilbo finally managed to make it were he was close enough to said dwarf that he could maybe reach into his pocket and take the apple undetected. It would have to be quick. From the sounds of the conversation their leader was having it sounded like they were soon to leave. Bilbo watched the dwarf carefully out of the corner of his eye as he nudged closer.

As carefully as he could manage he slipped his hand into the pocket. Finding the apple was no problem. This wasn’t like the keys to the pantry he used to swipe from his mother’s apron when he was young. Once he had the apple in hand he pulled it out as quickly as he could. The dwarf didn’t even seem to notice.

Bilbo chuckled quietly to himself and went to replace the apple on the stand only to be met with a sour look from the farmer himself. 

“Wot do ya think yer doing Bilbo Baggins!” farmer Maggot cried out, snatching the apple from Bilbo’s hands, “Idda thought you’d know betta’!”

“Now wait a minute!” Bilbo protested meaning to explain himself, but farmer Maggot was having none of it, opting for creating a mountain out of a molehill instead.

‘Oh bugger’, Bilbo thought. This couldn’t have gone down any worse. Every eye in the market was on them now. Even the dwarves’ attention was drawn to the commotion. Bilbo let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. 

“Listen, Mr. Maggot, I’m not looking to make trouble...” he tried to explain, “It had just… rolled off your cart and I… was just putting back where-.”

“Ah sure ya were,” farmer Maggot spat, his face now as red as the apples on his stand, “Don’t think I don’t know the trouble maker you were!”

There was no getting out of this situation. Bilbo decided it was best to just let Mr. Maggot give him an earful in front of the whole market and then be on his way. Probably to just hole himself up inside his house until the humdrum died down. How long that would be would remain to be seen. Hobbits did not so easily forget commotion. Maybe he’d lock himself up in his study and read, or write. Maybe he could make some bread, anything to get the disaster at the market off his mind would do. 

Bilbo retrieved his basket from its hiding spot before making his way hastily back up the hill toward Bag End. 

\---

The sun had just passed high noon when a loud knock at this front door pulled Bilbo away from his books. Bilbo let out an exasperated sigh. It could be anyone at this point, and quite frankly he didn’t really want to answer it. When the knock came again Bilbo resigned himself and got up. 

Whoever he was expecting to be at the door wasn’t there. Instead he came face to face with the elder dwarf that had been down in the market. Behind him were the same four dwarves all looking a bit uncomfortable, namely the swindler. 

Bilbo looked curiously between them. “Can.. I help you?” he asked.

“Ah, no not particularly,” replied the lead dwarf, “We’re actually here to settle a misunderstanding.”

Bilbo cocked his head.

The lead dwarf continued, “The name’s Balin, of the Blue Mountains. It has come to my attention that one of my companions here may be a fault for putting you through such grief in the market.”

Then Balin turned and gave the swindler a slightly dirty look, motioning for him to come forward. Bilbo straightened a bit as the dwarf approached. 

“You know what you have to say, Nori,” the elder dwarf urged. 

Nori, who was clearly embarrassed, cleared his throat before looking Bilbo in the eyes, “It seems that my… carelessness and ill manners caused you grief back at the market. And for that I apologize.”

Bilbo wasn’t really sure what to say. Worse things had happened, and while he didn’t much like what happened at the market, it wasn’t the end of the world. 

“I, uh, accept your apology,” he replied awkwardly, “Um… it’s really no problem though—”

“Of course it was!” Balin cut in, “Nori knows as well as any Son of Durin that we are often guests in places we travel. That such disregard for etiquette is unacceptable when dealing abroad.”

Bilbo stared back, perplexed, if not slightly amused, as Balin indirectly gave Nori a second scolding. The three younger dwarves watched on in silent curiosity and perhaps a bit of fear, but it was clear they found this more a learning experience than anything. 

Never in his life did Bilbo think he’d witness a group of dwarves having a lesson in foreign etiquette on his front porch. It was like something out of the tales his mother used to read to him before bed. 

“Again, my apologies for the trouble we have caused you,” Balin said, turning to Bilbo after he’d finished with Nori, “The young ones can get a wee excited on trips like these. We were merely passing through to meet more of our kin and had just stopped in the market to see where the nearest inn was located.”

“It’s really no problem,” Bilbo said again, “The Shire can seem a rather dull place, but a little commotion every now and then makes for interesting tales.” 

Balin chuckled, “Well, we’ll not take up too much more of your time. Come on, lads, we got a little more road ahead of us. We should be able to get to Bree with the directions that kindly shopkeeper gave us.”

“You’re headed to Bree?” Bilbo suddenly found himself saying.

Balin turned back to him, “Aye, laddie. Was told it’s out the east road.”

For whatever reason a strange feeling came over Bilbo and he found himself saying something that surprised himself a little. 

“I could show you the way if you like,” he offered, “It isn’t far but… you might get there without the trouble of having to… read directions.”

The dwarves seemed to consider the offer, whispering quietly amongst themselves. With a final nod Balin turned back to Bilbo. 

“If it’s not too much of a hassle for you,” he replied, “We’d be glad for your help Mr.."

“Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo responded, “Just…Bilbo is fine though.” 

“Mr. Bilbo, we’d be grateful for the help,” Balin finished. 

“Right,” Bilbo nodded, “Just give me a moment to get a couple things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Thank you for reading, I hope you will find this entertaining.
> 
> (I'm well aware that the dwarves would probably have no issue making it to Bree but, ya know.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Books are not their covers.

The dwarves seemed a merry enough folk now that they were able to move past the uncomfortable situation with the market. Bilbo learned that the blonde dwarf’s name was Fili and the dark haired one was his brother, Kili, and the youngest in their group, Ori, was training to be an archivist. It would explain why the young one guarded his book so carefully. 

“You mentioned something about meeting your kin,” Bilbo mentioned as he and Balin walked at the head of the group. 

“Ah yes,” Balin smiled, “We meet up every so often with kin from the Iron Mountains, mainly to catch up and see what news they bring from the east.”

“The Iron Mountains…” Bilbo said thoughtfully, “That seems a long way. You said you’re from the Blue Mountains if I remember correctly.”

“Aye, we are,” Balin replied. “That settlement is still very new, maybe hundred years or a little more. Many of our folk were pushed there after the tragedy of the Lonely Mountain.”

“The Lonely Mountain?” Bilbo inquired.

Balin was quiet for a moment, eyes searching. Bilbo swallowed thickly, unsure if he’d hit a nerve and hoping he hadn’t offended the elder dwarf. 

“It was our ancestral homeland for as long as I can remember,” Balin finally said, “A beautiful fortress kingdom, mightiest of the dwarven kingdoms.” 

There was a fondness in Balin’s voice Bilbo recognized almost immediately. That gentle, warm happiness when talking about home; real home. It was the same comfort Bilbo found when reading in his armchair in front of the fire, or cooking bread in the hearth, or smoking his pipe on the front porch. 

“It was a beautiful place of giant cavernous rooms and warm fire light,” Balin continued, “Many came from far and wide just to marvel the stonework and walk halls.” 

“Sounds incredible,” Bilbo said. It seemed a silly comment in the moment. Nothing he’d seen could compare. Though the more Balin described this city the more it began to sound like something out of the child’s tales his mother used to read him. Something fanciful.  
Part of him felt it would be quite the adventure to see the world of the large folk some day. But hobbits really had no business outside the Shire.

“It was,” Balin reminisced, his face falling a bit. 

Bilbo considered pressing for more but the subject seemed to bring up something the elder dwarf didn’t look like he wanted to discuss. Instead they settle for the pleasant silence with only the songs of the birds high up in the canopy of the trees and the whistling wind through the grass. 

\--

The sun had fallen quite low in the sky by the time they crossed the Brandywine Bridge and continued down the road along the northern edge of the Old Forest. While one could technically get to Bree comfortably within a day if they were walking a brisk pace, Bilbo began to worry a bit about the impending nightfall. Certainly wasn’t going to be home for supper and he certainly wasn’t going to have that fish he bought in the market, blast it all! There was nothing he could do about that now. It would be a problem for when he got back.

Ahead of him Nori spoke to Balin in a hushed whisper, throwing a glance over his shoulder every now and then. It was odd to say the least, and Bilbo was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake in offering to be a guide. There were plenty of tales of people gone missing on the road. Travelers minding their own business only to be hoodwinked by shady folk who waited along the roadside, or even company they met along the way. 

They’d passed a few folk headed in the other direction which didn’t seem a big deal, but as the sun inched closer and closer to the horizon Bilbo couldn’t help but notice the silence that fell over the dwarves. Bilbo pushed those thoughts away. If this company of dwarves had meant to rob him wouldn’t they have already done so? It wasn’t like he had anything of value on himself save for a small satchel of coin that probably wasn’t worth the trouble anyway. At best he would just need to keep his guard up until they made it to Bree and if his suspicions came to worse he could just slip off when the dwarves weren’t looking. 

“Ah, a sign post!” Balin announced suddenly.

By now the sun had fallen below the horizon and night descended upon them quick like a fog. Nori and Fili went to work lighting some torches as Balin studied the road sign. 

“Seems we just got a little ways more,” Balin said, giving Bilbo a hopeful smile, “This has been way out of your way, Mr. Baggins. Even for a simple favor.”

Bilbo shook his head, “No, not at all. I said I’d be your guide and I intend to keep my word.”

They continued on their way under torchlight moving at a swifter pace than before. Bilbo did his best to keep up, the darkening road behind them becoming unfriendly as the night grew on. Every now and then he’d see a star twinkle against the pitch black. The moon still had a few hours before it would rise over the hills but it would seem they would make it to Bree before its light illuminated the road. 

Up a head the flicker of torches could be seen out front a tall wooden gate. The company was hassled little at the door and soon entered the walled settlement, making their way to the Prancing Pony. 

The streets were quite busy for the hour, folk of all sorts crossing back and forth between the buildings. There were farm animals about too, a giant pig being led to a pen, even some chickens picking at a heap of trash under the shadow of a slaughterhouse.  
Bilbo about had a heart attack when he turned to find a horse bearing down upon him, the cart driver barking and ‘outta the way’. 

“Stick close Mr. Baggins,” Kili said, pulling Bilbo out of the way as the horse-drawn cart rolled by. 

Bilbo gave a nod of thanks, and tried not to look overwhelmed. He was beginning to realize more and more why hobbits rarely left the Shire.  
The tavern and inn was bustling. Men from east and west milled about at the tables and bar laughing loudly over frothing mugs of ale and warm mead. A sleek black cat sat idly on the counter watching disinterestedly as patrons stumbled by. In the far corner a game of dice was in session accompanied by small bit of gambling if shouts of disappointment were anything to go by. 

“Find a seat,” Balin instructed, “I’ll get us some food and ale.”

Bilbo followed the rest over to an area near the hearth. It felt good to be indoors despite the enormity of the room and suspicious and unfriendly air about the place. A few cloaked men peered at them as they passed, eyes scrutinizing and voices a hushed whisper. The dwarves seemed to disregard it, taking up their chosen seats at the table. Bilbo followed suit. 

“Do you think the others will be here soon?” Kili whispered to Fili. 

“Don’t worry, you know nothing could rough up them up,” Fili reassured, “Besides, we’re also supposed to be meeting Mr. Gandalf here as well.”

“Who is Mr. Gandalf, if I might ask?” Bilbo inquired. The name sounded familiar to him but he couldn’t place it. 

Fili took a quick glance around the room. “You ever heard of wizards?” He asked quietly. 

Bilbo nodded. He’d only really heard stories about them. They were strange folk who walked here and there, who one might make a chance encounter with once in their lifetime and not even know it. If he could recall, there were five that lived about Middle Earth. 

“Well, we’re seeking his counsel regarding the Lonely Mountain—,” Kili injected, earning a jab in the side from his brother, “I mean, the Iron Hills. For… trade stuff.”

Bilbo glanced curiously between the two dwarves, deciding to not press about the obvious retraction of information, “Oh? What kind of trade?”

Seemed a bit odd to need a wizard’s advice on trade matters. And if the strange looks that passed between the two brothers were anything to go by. He wouldn’t get his answer as his attention was taken by the barmaid who walked up and placed food before them, Balin not too far behind her with mugs of ale.

“Thank you miss,” Balin said, handing the young woman a few gold coins before sitting and instructing the company to eat. 

“Fancy yourself a bit of supper, Mr. Baggins,” Balin said pushing a plate across to Bilbo. A slice of bread sat aside from a wedge of cheese and a slice of ham with olive garnish. 

“That’s- thank you,” he said politely. He was quite hungry now that he thought about it. The walk and the worry about nightfall must have distracted him from his hunger. Normally he would have had dinner an hour ago, and be sipping tea with a fresh baked pastry in front of the fire. 

“Really do appreciate the company, Mr. Baggins,” Balin said after taking a sip of ale. “The least we could to is get you a room for the night.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary. Supper is all I could ask for in return,” Bilbo protested, “I should be alright making it back to the Shire tonight.”

“You sure?” Fili asked, “That’s quite a walk back.” 

“You’d be surprised how far we hobbits can walk before getting footsore,” he chuckled, taking a bite of bread. 

In all honesty Bilbo wasn’t too keen on staying overnight in a place like this. Sure it was probably secure enough of an inn, but he longed for his bed and the isolation and quiet of Bag End. 

“It’s not the footsoreness you need to worry about,” Fili mumbled, glancing over to the far corner of the tavern. 

Whatever caused the silence over the table was lost to Bilbo, but that same anxiousness he’d felt on the road began to creep into the back of his mind again. He finished his food as quickly as he could without making it obvious. The sooner he was off, the sooner he would be back in the safety of the Shire and Bag End. 

“Thank you again for the guide,” Balin said, standing as Bilbo made to take his plate to the bar. 

“The pleasure was mine,” Bilbo replied curtly, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Need one of us to walk you to the gate?” Fili chimed in. 

“Ah, no, that’s quite alright, but thank you.”

Bilbo hurried his dishes over to the counter, handing a few coins to the bartender for an apple before waving the dwarves goodbye. 

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Kili asked as they watched Bilbo leave. 

“I hope so,” Balin replied. 

\--

Bilbo walked briskly into the night, the noise of Bree slowly fading to the quiet of the forest and the wind. The dwarves had given him a torch for the road but he found that the moon’s silver rays were satisfactory enough to light the path. 

The anxiousness he’d felt before seemed to ebb away the further he got from Bree and for that he was thankful. Bilbo felt a little embarrassed that he thought ill of the dwarves, they’d been friendly to him from the moment they knocked on his door. He hoped that he’d see them pass through the Shire again, maybe he’d invite them to tea and hear all about their adventures. 

“What am I thinking?” He was being a fool. What were the chances he’d see those particular dwarves again, or the chance of them having any interest in visiting the Shire again. It was just a wishful daydreaming. 

Daydreaming that left him deaf to the footsteps that suddenly were upon him, a rough hand against his back knocking him to the ground and sending his walking stick off somewhere into the dark. Bilbo scrambled to get up only to be grabbed and pulled off the road into the woods. He tried to shout only to have a heavy gloved hand press over his mouth.

“Best stay quiet if ya don’t want yer guts out,” snarled a hooded man, pinning Bilbo against a tree.

In the dim light Bilbo could only make out a jagged face framed by wispy dark hair, the man’s face obscured by the shadow cast by his hood. There were several other men with him but Bilbo couldn’t make out their faces. 

“Whadda ya know of those dwarves,” the hooded man inquired

“D-Dwarves?! I-I don’t know who you’re talking about-!” Bilbo stuttered, flinching when the man suddenly drew a knife. 

“Don’t play stupid,” he threatened, pressing the blade against Bilbo’s throat, “We saw ya with ‘em at the tavern. We know ya know somethin’.”

Bilbo swallowed. Was this how he was to die?

“Speak!”

“O-kay! Okay!” Bilbo gasped, taking a deep breath trying to calm his nerves, “All I know is they’re from the Blue Mountains, that they were meeting kin for… trade stuff.”

“You lie!” one of the other men spat.

“No! No, I’m telling you that’s all I know,” Bilbo pleaded, “I.. I was merely a guide… they got lost in the Shire.. needed to get to Bree.”

The man holding Bilbo considered his words, the knife pulling away ever so slightly. 

“Get me somethin’ to bind his hands,” he ordered, “I’ll search his pockets.”

Bilbo grimaced as he was dropped to the ground, his jacket and waistcoat torn from his body. The man with the knife threw the garments to one of the other men to be searched before turning back to Bilbo. He knelt down and ran the blade across the collar of Bilbo’s shirt, flicking aside the lapel and drawing forth a thin silver chain with a locket. 

“What’s this, hmm?” man said mockingly, pulling the locket from Bilbo’s neck and opening it, “Mum’ n Da?” 

A cold feeling overcame Bilbo, the danger of the situation vanishing. All he could focus on was his locket being turned over in this vagabond’s filthy hands. They could rob him of his coin or anything else, but not the locket. 

There was a rock, about the size of a croquet ball at the base of the tree trunk that fit just right in Bilbo’s hand. If he timed this right it might give him enough time to snatch the locket and make a run for it. He’d have to be quick about it. 

The man with his locket suddenly turned his had at the snap of a branch, barking out a ‘who’s there’. The other two men turned away too, their hands readied at their swords.

Now was his chance. Bilbo grabbed the rock and hurled it. It struck the leader squarely on the back of the head, making him cry out and stumble. The other two men whirled around, drawing their swords only to be hit by long twisted branch. 

Bilbo scrambled out of the way as one of the men fell to the ground with a shout. A cloaked figure emerged from the darkness, and quickly knocked the felled man unconscious before engaging the third. The man swung wildly at the figure, roaring and cursing when he couldn’t make a hit. 

Not wanting to lose his opening Bilbo quickly moved to find his locket. It had fallen into the dirt, but luckily wasn’t covered in dead foliage from the scuffle. He grabbed it, not bothering to find his coat, and ran in the direction of the road. If he could just get there—

“Not so fast you little rat!”

Bilbo was suddenly slammed to the ground. It was the man with the knife, his face contorted, blood dripping down his forehead and his eyes bright with rage. 

“No!” Bilbo screamed, the sleeve of his shirt tearing as the man grabbed at him. 

“You filthy little—!”

Bilbo kicked the man in the stomach as hard as he could, but that didn’t seem to deter his assailant because the next thing he felt was a sharp pain across his cheek, and then white light. 

The weight pinning him to the ground suddenly vanished. All sounds and images suddenly blurred together. Bilbo could hear voices, not the angry roars of the strange men, but worried voices. They were calling his name. 

Then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter, but hopefully interesting enough.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The constant state of a novice traveler is discomfort, and maybe a little bit of hell.

The sun awoke him much the same as it did every day, as a soft ray of warmth against his face. The sounds of birds and merry laughter filtering through the last hazes of sleep accompanied by the creak of wooden wheels and iron hinges. 

Bilbo slowly opened his eyes. Above him a bright white canvas stood fastened over bowed wooden beams and bathed in golden light. A thick blanket lay over him, his back propped up on some sort of bedroll or basket. Next to him were a few more piles of blankets, and across some baskets with food. 

Once his eyes finally adjusted to the light he took in his surroundings once more. He was in a cart of sorts, perhaps a merchant’s cart except when he looked to the back there stood a fair stack of brightly colored fireworks. 

Where was he?

Bilbo struggled into an upright position only to have a wave of nauseous wash over him. His head throbbed and his body ached. He gently eased back down into the blankets and took a few deep breaths. It was clear he wasn’t in Bag End. The last thing he remembered was running and a flash of light and someone calling his name.

And the locket!

His hand went instinctively to his neck. He panicked, feeling around under the blankets and in his pockets for the necklace. It had to be somewhere, he remembered grabbing it. Bilbo turned over a couple of the blankets and checked under a few of the baskets, hoping it hadn’t slipped down through a crack in the wood.

It was clear after a few minutes that the locket was nowhere to be found. Bilbo let out an exhausted sigh, falling back against the bedroll, not sure if he wanted to throw something or cry. He settled for just laying there staring blankly at the white canvas as it fluttered in a gentle breeze that blew by. 

A noise at the back of the cart drew his attention. Bilbo glanced up to find a rather elderly dwarf with grey speckled hair enter the cart. His long moustache was braided intricately into the hair at his chin, which split down the middle with the braids bowing down along the bottom edge of his beard. His face was weathered, with a broad triangular nose and eyes slightly squinted under defined brows. 

“Ah, yer awake,” the dwarf smiled, “That’s a relief!”

Bilbo stared at the dwarf, perplexed. Should he say something?

“The others were worried,” the dwarf continued, pulling out a box from his robes and looking through the contents. 

“I’m… sorry,” Bilbo began, “But where... am I?”

The dwarf continued to look through his box seemingly unaware he’d asked a question. Bilbo tried again only for the dwarf to suddenly turn and hold up a small bottle. 

“Ah! Here it is! Lay down, lay down.”

Bilbo hesitated, not sure if he should say something else but at the look of urge on the dwarf’s face did as he was told and let the dwarf rub the ointment over his forehead. It had a poignant, sharp scent that was almost overwhelming. Bilbo sneezed loudly after a particularly strong whiff went up his nose. 

“Wait- Oin, is he awake?!” came an excited voice from outside the cart.

There was some loud rustling at the back of the cart. The dwarf, Oin, turned as a familiar young faced dwarf hopped in, followed closely by his brother. 

“Mr. Baggins!” Kili exclaimed, clambering none too graciously over the fireworks to Bilbo’s side, “Thank goodness you’re awake.” 

“We though you were a goner there for sure,” Fili chimed in, squeezing up next to his Kili, which earned an indignant grumble of protest. 

“I… uh, no, I am alright...” Bilbo replied, though wasn’t really sure what to think. If Fili and Kili were here, then that meant Balin, Nori and Ori were too. Which meant somehow Bilbo was still with them? But he’d left Bree.

“You lot better not be damaging any of my goods,” came a tired voice from the front of the cart. 

Bilbo turned to see a tall man with a long grey beard and pointy hat draw back the curtain. The cart had come to a stop now, both Kili and Fili mumbling some apology and Oin moving to leave, as ‘there were far too many bodies in the cart’ the tall old man complained. Something was said about finding a place to stop for lunch and the cart started moving again. Both Kili and Fili stayed in the cart with Bilbo, much to the tall man’s reluctance but it wouldn’t be long before they were stopped again. 

This time the curtains were pulled and tied back allowing Bilbo to finally get a good look at his surroundings. They’d moved off the main road to a small outcropping of rocks, under which Bilbo saw several dwarves he didn’t recognize setting up a kettle over a fire. Fili and Kili had jumped out to help tether the horses, or ponies more accurately, while the tall man with the pointed hat walked off in the direction of the road. 

Bilbo slowly stood from his place in the cart, carefully gauging how he was feeling. The last thing he wanted was to fall out of the cart and crack his head open on the ground. Some fresh air and a little stretch of the legs would do it. Maybe he could even help around though it seemed like the dwarves had things under control. 

“It’s good to see you up and about, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo turned to see Balin making his way over. The elder dwarf helped him out of the cart before giving him a once over, a look of relief in his eyes. 

“You’re glad Mr. Gandalf found you when he did,” Balin stated, “Any moment longer and you would have mince meat.”

“What… exactly happened?” Bilbo asked. 

Balin paused, as if he was looking for the words, “You were followed after you left the inn. Kili and Fili went after you not long after we saw the men leave the tavern. But we should have seen it.”

Bilbo cocked his head, “What… do you mean ‘followed’? By whom?”

Balin regarded him with an unreadable look and a heavy sigh, “It’s a bit complicated. All you need to know is you cannot trust the goodwill of the world of men. Anyway, let’s get you something to eat. You’ve been out for a day, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

\--

The stew wasn’t much but Bilbo couldn’t have cared less. The warm broth and bits of vegetables and meat were what he needed. He could feel his energy returning with each bite. If what Balin said was correct, and Bilbo had been out for a day, he would need every ounce of energy he could store up. Even though his headache was making his head swim, the food staved the discomfort enough that Bilbo was able to help with clean up. 

He learned the names of the cook, Bombur, his brother Bofur and their cousin Bifur, who could only speak in Khuzdul due to a rather prominent injury to the head in the form of an orc ax. 

“Don’t feel too bad about not understanding him,” Bofur reassured Bilbo when Bifur started talking to him and pointing at a pile of vegetables wildly, “He doesn’t say much as it is. Besides, if he had issue you’d know it.”

“Ah, right,” Bilbo replied, trying not to sound unnerved. Bofur just chuckled and went about wrapping the vegetables and stuffing them into a pack. 

He met Nori and Ori’s older brother Dori, who surprised Bilbo with a level of sophistication he hadn’t expected with dwarves. There was Dwalin, brother to Balin, and clearly the muscle of the group who regarded Bilbo with nothing more than a scoff and incredulous look. Then there was Gloin, the treasurer and brother to Oin the medic. 

It was going to take some time for him to remember everyone’s name but Bilbo had a feeling he was going to become well acquainted with the dwarven company whether he chose to or not.

They were a close-knit and merry bunch who reveled in banter and song with an energy Bilbo was amused by despite how unaccustomed to it he was. Bofur and Dori often asked him about the Shire, and what hobbit life was like which he was glad to share at times. Some topics got a little out of hand, or too personal for his liking but he knew it was only curiosity.

Speaking of curiosity he had yet to be introduced to the one they called Gandalf. So far the man had been absent for the entirety of lunch, which wouldn’t have been odd in any other situation except that when he did return his sported an even more ill tempered look than when Fili and Kili had crawled all over the goods in his cart. 

Bilbo watched Gandalf work around his cart as clean up was entering its final stages. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the man, he wore a long grey cloak that matched his wide brimmed hat. A knitted shawl lay about his shoulders, flecked with threads of silver that glinted in the high noon sun. To anyone he might look like just a lone merchant traveling the land selling his goods. 

“I believe we are ready to head out,” Balin announced as he checked the camp for any stray equipment, “Nori, take up the lead this time. Bilbo you ride with Gandalf.”

“Ah, I think I should be alright,” Bilbo commented, “I can walk.”

“That is out of the question,” came Gandalf’s stern voice.

Bilbo made to protest but thought against it as Gandalf approached them. Now that he was close Bilbo could see, despite his aged appearance, that Gandalf’s eyes blazed with energy, calculating, but also vague. It almost made Bilbo want to shrink away. 

“You may not feel it now but you took a fairly grave injury to the head,” Gandalf explained, “I was lucky to find you when I did.”

“People keep saying that. And…” Bilbo gave an annoyed huff, “I don’t know what you, or anyone, is talking about.”

“My point exactly,” Gandalf replied, “Which is why you will need all the rest you can get.”

With that he turned and walked back to the cart. Bilbo glowered after him, reluctantly following suit when Balin gave him a sympathetic shrug. 

\--

The ride was uneventful. Bilbo spent most of his time reclined against the same pile of bedrolls staring at the white canvas trying to remember what happened to him. His thoughts keep coming back to the locket, the last vestiges of home, now somewhere lost in the wilderness, collecting under dirt and twigs. He tries not to think too much about it.

The sun is low in the sky when they stop again, making camp a good ways off the road under a crop of trees that block the slight wind that picks up as the sky changes from oranges and pinks to purples and blues. Bilbo helps where he can but just as Gandalf stated his energy has waned significantly since midday. 

“You feeling alright, Bilbo?” Bofur asks, bringing over a couple bowls of stew, handing one to Bilbo before sitting down with his own. 

“Just a… b-bit lethargic,” Bilbo stammers out, thanking Bofur before taking a small bite of food. It tastes about the same as it did during lunch, just a mix of vegetables and some meat in a watery broth, but his appetite isn’t there. He chokes down a few more mouthfuls before setting it aside and taking a few deep breaths. A faint shiver runs down his spine, his hands clammy and it’s suddenly too cold and too hot. 

The thumping behind his temples that started around mid-afternoon, getting progressively worse as the day lagged on, is now unbearable. He takes a few more deep breaths trying to focus on something other than the searing pain in his head but even looking at the fire is causing his vision to swim and the thrumming to increase. He doesn’t hear Bofur call his name in concern before he’s throwing up his dinner onto the ground in violent, hacking coughs. 

He doesn’t remember being led to the edge of camp, or when someone pressed a cool rag against his forehead and quite frankly he doesn’t care. He just wants the pain to go away. There are haggard voices around him and someone wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and lifting him onto the saddle of a horse. Before he can register what’s going on a gentle hand passes across his forehead and the world fades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I fought this chapter for days and even still I think there's parts that might need editing. But for now I'm going to leave it at this, (apologies for any typos). Hopefully the momentum will begin to pick up and Bilbo can have less 'bad' time and more 'good' time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world of the unknown can be both daunting and exciting. Either way it changes those who are willing to traverse it.

_The leaves are falling again. In every shade of orange and yellow and brown, the chilled air autumn descending upon the land like a beautiful death. Not many remain now, and the one’s that do look on in hushed silence for no more than a moment before the slowly make their way back up the road._

_He stays though._

_The branches of the giant leafless oak stretch long in the setting sun as gnarled twisted shadows across the soft trodden earth. Two smooth stones lay side by side against its base, staring back at him, cold and unfeeling even as the last golden rays fall across the crisp engravings on their faces._

_He hears nothing. Sees nothing. Not the rustle of the leaves across the dirt path or the bitter wind that bites at his ears and nose. Not the birds chasing the clouds high above, migrating south as the days become shorter and nights become longer. Not the babbling of the brook through the dancing grass, or the last of the cricket-song as the sun descends to the horizon._

_All he can do is stand there in the gathering darkness, a vice around his lungs and emptiness in his heart._

\--

It is as though everything is happening and nothing, waves beating up against the shore but pulling the sand away. Warmth and cold roils back and forth like gales in the fluttering canvas of silver ships on a glistening sea. Voices ring across the pale blue sky, pulling him into the clouds while a chorus, steady and melodic pulls him down through water, earth and trees. 

Figures flash across his vision, enchanting as wisps of smoke rise that from smooth carven pipes. Everything is here, and not, and he can feel the pull again, taking him across imposing mountains and thundering rivers, across endless seas and through forests raining with golden light and green. Something familiar calls to him from a distant white archway, just beyond it a glowing cobbled pathway. 

He can see them again, the figures, just two, standing there, reaching out to him, beckoning him. He runs to them and takes their hands, and the veil opens as a warm light lifts him up and up and up…

The first he hears is the rustle of leaves, then the gentle kiss of the wind against his cheeks, then the songs of the birds twittering between the babbling of water. When Bilbo finally opens his eyes it takes him a moment to realize he’s in the waking world, the ethereal tendrils of dream fading silently like a mist under the morning sun. The room he’s in is large. There is a chair in the corner with a finely woven cushion upon its seat. It looks like wood from where Bilbo slowly sits up in a bed too large for any hobbit. 

He stretches lazily and glances around the room once more. There’s a window to his left with long sheer curtains, which blow gently in the breeze that flows through. Next to it stands an arched doorway out to a hallway he can only partially see, but there is sunlight glowing on the smooth stone floor that looks so very inviting. To his right there’s a small table with a pitcher of water, a small washbasin and a cloth. And next to that he finds his clothes folded nicely on top of a wooden chest. 

“You’re finally awake.”

Bilbo turned to find Gandalf standing in the doorway, a look of relief on the old man’s face. He was wearing the same long grey cloak and silver speckled scarf, though his hat was nowhere to be seen. The prominent creases along the upper and lower eyelids stood out in the soft light making him look more tired than old. 

“Where… am I?” Bilbo inquired, adjusting his back against his pillow and finding that he somehow felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from his chest. 

“You are in Imladris,” Gandalf replied, taking a seat in the chair in the corner, “You may know it better, Rivendell.”

Bilbo blinked. He couldn’t have heard that right. Rivendell? The Last Homely House East of the Sea? The same Rivendell he read about all those years ago in his father’s books? The one place in Middle Earth he promised himself, as a child, that he would visit one day.

“Your injuries were more serious than I presumed,” Gandalf continued, fixing Bilbo with a gentle look, “But you are on the mend, thanks to the healing of the elves.”

_Elves?!_

He must still be dreaming because there was no way he was in Rivendell, he couldn’t be. How?! All he did was help some dwarves get to Bree…

_Oh._

“I’m sure you are hungry,” Gandalf said, standing again and walking toward the door, “I will let Lindir know you are up. The dinning hall is just down the way, take the first set of stairs down.”

“Wait, Gandalf,” Bilbo called, hastily throwing back the sheets and climbing out of the bed. The wizard stopped just short of the doorway, turning back in Bilbo’s direction. 

“Will— Will you at least join me for lunch? I have so many questions.”

“In due time they will be answered, my friend,” Gandalf replied with a smile, “But first you must regain your strength.”

Bilbo let his shoulders drop. There was no getting around the riddles and half-truths, not least from Gandalf right now. He would have to relinquish the curiosity for now and maybe later he could grill the strange old man for all the details but right now food was the priority if is stomach had a say. 

The dining area was just where Gandalf said it would be, finding it less of problem than trying not to fall down the stairwell into the courtyard. Elves, being taller than men, of course their architecture was bigger, though no man would have any problem descending the smooth stone steps. 

Stairs aside, the courtyard was bathed in the golden light of the sun with elves moving back and forth from the tables with plates of food and glasses of wine. There were several tables set out in various places, one under the shade of a vine-covered archway that was blossoming with the most vibrant purple flowers Bilbo had ever seen. Several elves and a few men sat at the table talking in hushed voices over recently cleaned plates. In the opposite corner an elf maiden sat strumming a giant golden harp, it’s strings shimmering in the sunlight. 

Bilbo made his way carefully over to an empty table, glancing around once or twice for any indication of serving staff or a queue. Was he just supposed to sit? 

“Ah, you must be Mr. Bilbo Baggins. Mithrandir mentioned you would be joining.”

Bilbo turned to find a dark haired elf maid approach him. She wore a simple silk gown with a golden brown petticoat. A silver headpiece adorned the crown of her head. 

“Who? I mean, y...yes,” Bilbo replied, glancing around anxiously, “I was told this is where the dining area was.”

“Just take a seat, and we will bring food,” the elf maid motioned to the seat at the table. It was clearly too big for a hobbit but Bilbo tried his best to get in it. Thankfully when the maid returned she offered to get him something more suitable to sit on. 

Bilbo found his appetite quickly. Just a single whiff of the freshly baked bread set on the table was enough to make his stomach growl. Elvish food was _different_ , to put it simply. Lots of fresh greens mixed with tubers and dried fruits. Toasted nuts and berries on top of lightly glazed wafers, almost creamy to the taste despite their almost brittle composition.

Not as many hearty starches and meats like those of the Shire, but a hobbit could appreciate good cuisine regardless. 

He was working through a third helping when Gandalf joined him, talking amicably with an elven steward. Though they spoke in Elvish he could pick out one or two words, having dabbled a bit with the few texts in his father’s collection that had Sindarin. Not that it could even compare to learning the language from an elven scholar but Bilbo prided himself in at least knowing a little. 

“I hope the food has been to your satisfaction, Mr. Baggins,” steward asked as they approached the table. 

Bilbo nodded quickly, swallowing what food was in his mouth before smiling up at the elf. “It’s delicious, for my first taste of elven cuisine.” 

“I am glad,” steward gave a curt nod, “Lord Elrond will be pleased to see you’re awake and well.” 

“Lord Elrond has our thanks,” Gandalf said, taking the seat directly across from Bilbo, “If it is possible to speak with him when he returns…”

“He should not be long,” the steward reassured, “I will let him know.”

The two bid ‘good day’ before Gandalf’s attention turned to the table and filling his plate with food and his glass with wine. They ate in mostly silence, Bilbo pausing a few times in his meal, a question sitting on the edge of his tongue. He needed answers. Even though his mind was clear and he felt better than he had in what was probably days he needed to know what happened the night he left Bree. He’d been followed, but by whom? What had they wanted? Why him in particular?

“You are probably curious why you are here,” Gandalf put out suddenly. 

Bilbo looked up from his salad mid-chew. The old man wasn’t wrong, he’d been asking questions since he found himself nestled into the cart of goods. Many of which were left unanswered or even more confusing. 

“I supposed I shouldn’t beat around the bush about it then,” Bilbo sighed, setting his fork down and fixing his gaze on nothing in particular. “I want to know what happened. After Bree.”

Gandalf didn’t answer immediately, taking a sip of his wine and sitting a little straighter as if he was contemplating how to reply. 

“The dwarves… well, Balin, said I was followed,” Bilbo kept on, “Do you know why?” 

“Because you were seen in the company of the dwarves,” Gandalf replied matter-of-factly.

Bilbo pinned him with annoyed look. What did that have to do with anything? The dwarves were an odd lot sure, maybe a bit nosy and boisterous for Bilbo’s liking but nothing about them seemed so out of the ordinary that it warranted being followed. 

“And… people are out to get anyone who associates with dwarves?” Bilbo spit, throwing his hand up in exasperation. He should have expected to get nowhere.

“They aren’t just any dwarves, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said quietly, his face steely, “There’s a whole world of happenings that stretch farther than the borders of the Shire. Happenings that disturb foundations, redraw the map, if you will.”

“So these dwarves…” Bilbo pressed, “They have something to do with this ‘redrawing’?”

“More than you know,” Gandalf replied.

Bilbo chewed on his lip, mulling the words over. It was a cryptic as it was unhelpful and it brought, again, more questions than answers. He thought back to the inn, and the odd reaction Fili and Kili had when he asked about where they were going, their sudden hushed whispers and fleeting glances around the tavern. Kili had said mentioned something to do with the Lonely Mountain, or more he meant something to do with the Iron Hills. 

“Does the Lonely Mountain have anything to do with—“

Before Bilbo could finish a ringing sound echoed through the valley. It was unlike anything Bilbo ever heard, every elf in the courtyard perked up and began moving about. Gandalf, too, was suddenly alert. Bilbo followed suit, almost falling from the chair but managing to catch himself before he hit his face on the table. He followed the old man, fumbling a hasty ‘thank you’ to the wait staff before crossing the courtyard rather quickly and heading down a set of stairs off to the left.

“Gandalf!” 

The taller man stopped moment to let Bilbo catch up, his eyes twinkling with something unreadable. Bilbo let out a huffed breath once he was in step and they continued down a long corridor that passed what looked to be a library. Around the next corner was a second set of stairs that led down to another, larger courtyard filled with elves on horseback. There were at least a dozen, maybe more, reining in their horses in a tight circle around a group of individuals who Bilbo immediately recognized as the dwarven company, all of who looked less than pleased. 

One of the elves dismounted near the staircase, his armor distinguished from the rest by its dark bronze color and the slightly purple hue that shimmered in the sunlight. His hair was combed back in a similar fashion, partly pulled back in a tie with a single plait woven down the left side of his face. A simple golden crown of twisting vines sat upon his brow. 

“Welcome back, Lord Elrond,” Gandalf greeted with a bow. 

“Mithrandir,” Elrond returned, handing his bow and quiver to a page, “It is good to see you. I take this is the dwarven company you spoke about.”

“Ah, yes. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble bringing them here,” Gandalf said, glancing over at the company who currently had their weapons drawn and were glaring daggers at the elves that surrounded them. Elrond spoke something in Elvish and the ring broke off, each elf leading their horses away until all that was left was the company. 

“Not at all.” Elrond said, a small smile pulling at his lips, “And I see the halfling is finally awake.”

Bilbo glanced up from where he was peaking around Gandalf, stepping out from behind the man and straightening his posture, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” 

“Welcome to Rivendell, Bilbo Baggins,” Elrond replied, “It is a relief to see you in good health. I would have been here when you awoke but another matter needed attending.” 

Bilbo swaying back on his heals slightly, not sure if he should respond. He could say with certainty now that elves were probably more awkward to talk to than dwarves. Trying to strike up a conversation with one was like trying to figure out the appropriate words to speak when talking to someone in a different language. At least dwarves were a little more up front. 

“Bilbo!” came a voice from the company.

He looked over to see Kili smiling excitedly at him, the rest of the dwarves exclaiming in varying degrees of astonishment and relief. Bilbo waved at them as he descended down the last few steps, oddly glad to see them as well. They were upon him in no time, fussing and asking him all sorts of questions. Dori and Oin were looking him up and down, asking if the elves hurt him in any way. 

“You keep giving us the scare,” Fili said, giving Bilbo a hardy clap on the back, “Bofur was sure you were dying or something.”

“I didn’t say he was gonna die!”

“Then what was that about ‘poisoning’?”

“I was talking about food poisoning.”

Bilbo chuckled, “Well, not to worry. I’m not dead. And it most certainly wasn’t the food.”

To say it relieved him to see the company would be a little bit of an overstatement, what with him only really knowing them for a day. But their level of concern for his wellbeing… he’d quite forgotten what that felt like. 

“I take it you had no issue finding the rendezvous?” Gandalf said expectantly over the company, who fell quiet.

“Yeah, it was no problem,” Dwalin spoke up, giving Gandalf a pointed glare, “Until a bunch of pointy-ears showed up and demanded we come with them!” 

A murmur of agreement washed through the company, the mood turning sour rather quickly. Bilbo found himself packed into the middle of the group, all but losing sight of Gandalf, as the dwarves took a protective stance around him. He did his best not to fall over even though being pressed shoulder to shoulder with the dwarves next to him pretty much limited his movement. Though it didn’t mean he was in any way on balance.

“You know very well why it is important you are here,” Gandalf stated sternly. “You need the information in that map and the closest place that I know of is here. I would expect that you’d want to take advantage of what resources you can.” 

The dwarves grumbled and whispered among themselves again. Something about ‘not needing help from elves’ and ‘figuring out the map’s secrets themselves’. Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about but this map they spoke of may be the reason why they seemed so hushed the day he led them to Bree.

“We’ll stay only as long as necessary,” Balin negotiated, despite the displeased groans from the other dwarves, “We could use the resources and rest. Then, we are leaving.”

“Very well,” Gandalf conceited, “Now that that’s out of the way, I shall see to your accommodations.” 

\--

The company’s mood defused a bit as they were escorted to a set of lodgings on the southeastern side of Rivendell. There were six rooms with two beds each with a shared bathing area and small courtyard. A few chairs and a low table sat against the stone railing that separated the courtyard from the walkway, several of the dwarves dropping their packs haphazardly into them before wondering around the lodgings. 

Dori and Ori were busy redistributing the contents of their packs, while Nori was poking around the bedroom they most likely were going to inhabit. Gloin and Oin took the room on the far left while Bofur, Bombur and Bifur debated just sleeping in the courtyard and something about ‘not sleeping in a pointy-ear bed’. Balin looked about as exasperated as everyone else but more willing to just accept the accommodations and rest. Dwalin hadn’t even moved from where he stopped in the courtyard. 

Bilbo followed Fili and Kili into one of the rooms, it didn’t look much different than the one he woke up in that morning, save for that it was a little bigger. 

“Don’t know how I feel about this,” Fili muttered, slowly pulling open the drawers of the dresser, “They might try rob us in our sleep…” 

“They’re not going to steal from you,” Bilbo rolled his eyes, pulling himself up on to a stool, “They’re letting you eat and rest here for however long you need. It can’t be all bad.”

“Not ‘all bad’?!,” Kili said, turning on the hobbit rather aggressively, “Elves can’t be trusted.” 

“Is that really… true? Bilbo pressed, frowning at Kili from his place on the stool, “…Or is that just your opinion of them?”

“What? Are you serious, right now?” Kili looked taken aback. 

Bilbo nodded, unsure why that seemed an odd question. 

“Elves would rather sit in their sparkling palaces ignoring the plight of anyone they deem below them,” Kili explained, “And yet act like they’re the wisest of all and that their counsel holds more value.”

“They didn’t seem that way to me,” Bilbo countered, “In fact they have been quite hospitable.”

“Then you really haven’t seen what they’re like,” Kili stated, crossing his arms over his chest, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering your circumstances.”

Bilbo cocked his head, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It would make sense that you don’t see them for how they really are,” Kili continued, ignoring the warning look his brother shot in his direction, “You’ve not seen the world like we have. Haven’t had to worry about where to sleep or when your next meal would be. Haven’t had to hustle your skill just to make sure you could provide for your family.”

“Enlighten me then,” Bilbo challenged, heat rising in his face as something in his chest tightened uncomfortably, “I-If I’m so ill educated about the world because… I’ve lived comfortably in the Shire all my life, explain it to me if you know it so well.”

Kili scoffed again, “Unbelievable… Was getting assaulted by vagabonds not enough to knock some sense into you?!" 

“Kili..” Fili hissed, though it fell on deaf ears. 

“Sense?!” Bilbo sputtered, “I didn’t realize there was a lesson to learning while some strange men threatened my life if I didn’t give them information they wanted about you all.”

“Oh, so it’s our fault?!” Kili threw back, taking a step toward the hobbit.

“Kili!” 

“That’s not what I said— “ Bilbo tried.

“It’s what you meant! Can you even hear yourself?!”

“Clearly I didn’t hit my head hard enough it seems!” Bilbo spat, “Would have been better that way, hm. Just dead in a ditch with nothing but the cold earth and night sky, I don’t even know why you even bothered to find me. I don’t even know what I’m doing here or why and since no one wants to explain it to me I guess I can just go sod off to my comfortable life in the Shire and be happy I lived to see another day—!” 

Bilbo stopped, hands trembling where they were fisted tightly in the fabric of his trousers. This wasn’t right. This needed to defuse and from the uncomfortable silence that settled over the room he knew he’d have to be the one to initiate it. 

“I… I’m sorry… I’ll.. just…” He didn’t bother finishing his sentence, slipping off the stool and walking past the young dwarf without a second look. He needed to be somewhere else, his mind was too foggy with frustration and anger and… It just wasn’t right. He brushed past someone as he exited the room, mumbling an apology before hastening down the stone steps and back toward his own lodgings.

\--

Bilbo took his supper late in the evening, having chosen to stay in his room for the rest of the afternoon except for when he needed a smoke. There was a secluded garden just down the way from his room, which served well for a spot of supper. He didn’t have to worry about noise or serving staff or even Gandalf for that matter. The old man was still as vague and mysterious and unhelpful as ever. At least Lord Elrond had the sense to be frank with Bilbo.

“Prefer to dine alone?” 

Bilbo turned with a start. The elven lord raised a hand in apology, walking gracefully over to where the hobbit sat hunched over his plate. 

“Well… yes, I suppose,” Bilbo replied, setting his plate aside and wiping his hands a golden cloth napkin. Elrond took a seat on the grass next to him. An odd sight, if Bilbo was honest.

“You’re troubled?”

Bilbo drew his legs up against his chest and sighed. Ever since his row with Kili he hadn’t been able to rid himself of feeling like an absolute fool. It wasn’t often he lost his temper in such a way, and this was over something so minimal. And yet he still managed to say some horrible things. 

“Dwarves can be difficult folk,” Elrond spoke, running a hand through the grass absentmindedly, “Secretive, proud, stubborn…” 

“Set in their ways…” Bilbo added, “Not unlike hobbits.” 

The elf lord glanced over at him quizzically.

“Where hobbits are the grass and trees, dwarves are the mountain and stone,” he continued, a small smile forming on his lips, “Both grounded, both with roots that run deep into the earth…” 

He chuckled softly to himself. It made all the sense in the world. 

“You are incredibly perceptive,” Elrond complimented, “I can see why Gandalf felt you should be here.”

It was Bilbo’s turn to look quizzically up at the elf lord.

““I take it he has not come to you about it yet?” Elrond inquired before letting out a soft exasperated sigh when Bilbo slowly shook his head. Seemed it wasn’t just the hobbit who was fed up with Gandalf’s withheld information.

“A counsel is to be held tomorrow.” Elrond continued, “Gandalf was hoping you would attend.”

“A counsel for what?” Bilbo pressed. 

The elf lord hesitated, as if uncertain how much information would be appropriate to pass on. Bilbo worried, for a second, if he’d overstepped a boundary.

“It is regarding the retaking of the Lonely Mountain,” he said finally, slowly standing and brushing the gross from his robes, “Gandalf seems to believe you’ll play a key part.” 

Bilbo couldn’t decide if he should feel confused or shocked or both. Again feeling as though things were becoming more complicated than clear, but oddly enough not quite as overwhelmed this time. Something set his heart racing in his chest. 

“I will attend,” he confirmed. 

The elf lord nodded in acknowledgement before bidding him a good evening. Bilbo watched until Elrond disappeared around the edge of the courtyard before turning away and staring blankly out into the darkening garden. 

What had he just agreed to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After giving me grief for days this chapter finally came together and I couldn't be more excited. Bilbo is in for quite the journey and I'm excited to see where it goes after this!
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and see you next chapter!
> 
> (PS: just realized how long this chapter was... damn.)


	6. Chapter 6

The morn came sooner than Bilbo would have liked, though considering how puzzling the previous day had been and Elrond’s words about the counsel he knew sleep would escape him that night. 

The elves woke rather early, many already up and about by the time Bilbo forced himself out of bed. If he was to get no sleep then he might as well start his day early as well. He took his time walking out to the well to fetch some fresh water, inhaling the crisp, cool morning air that smelled faintly of dew and leaves and earth. It reminded him of the times his mother took him out to the top of Bag End, before the sun rose and the roosters sang their morning songs, and the grass was still wet from the previous nights rainstorm. 

The splash of cold water on his face was more than enough to chase away the last bits of restlessness that hung on his eyelids. He dressed easily, the elves having lent him some trousers and a beautifully crafted tunic and belt while his clothes were to be washed and returned that afternoon. The cloth was comfortable and fit well enough, despite how odd he felt he looked wearing something so ethereal and elegant. At least they hadn’t offered to make him slippers, he was sure to look like a fool. 

Breakfast wouldn’t be ready for another hour, at least, so Bilbo continued along the walkway around the courtyard and up the stairs on the far side to a long hallway that took him past the library and another garden. From there he turned left and headed down a short flight of steps and across a small arched bridge that passed over a clear bubbling creek. On the other side of the bridge another set of stairs led down to a grassy embankment at the water. An old tree grew just at the edge of this grassy opening, it’s trunk thick and twisted over even though its branches reached for the sky.

Bilbo settled himself at the base of the tree and stuffed his pipe, lighting it easily and taking a deep inhale. He blew out a small smokey ring and watched it float slowly upward into the breeze that rustled the leaves of the old tree. The nerves he woke up seeming to ease ever so slightly. There really wasn’t a reason for him to feel so anxious about a meeting. Given the information Elrond left him with there was the possibility all they wanted from Bilbo was some advice. Though that seemed rather silly too considering the only counsel Bilbo ever sat in on regarded happenings in the Shire, not some far away kingdom of another race.

He sighed heavily. The least he could do was attend, maybe give some advice, but he didn’t expect to be much help. The world of the big folk was wild and wondrous. It already plucked him from the Shire and swept him through Bree and to Rivendell, and if he didn’t watch his step it would be a wonder where it would take him next. 

“You’ve really gotten yourself into something now…” Bilbo huffed, letting another ring of smoke float up into the air.

A songbird landed somewhere in the branches, it’s chipper voice ringing gladly through the leaves and up the cliffs of the valley, a song of what lay beyond the hills. The first rays of sunlight spilled golden upon Rivendell, turning dawn to day. Bilbo puffed the last of his pipe before standing and stretching and deciding it was time to find some food. 

\--

“Did it never cross your mind to speak to the lad about this?”

The question came out more accusatory than Balin intended but right now he found his tone less of a concern compared to the fact that Gandalf meant to drag Bilbo Baggins into their quest, regardless of the halfling’s personal feelings on the matter. 

“He’s managed this far,” the wizard said, taking puff from his pipe. 

“Managed to suffer an almost fatal injury. And for what?” Balin said pointedly, stopping in his pacing and giving Gandalf a disapproving look, “You know as well as I the danger of this quest and the consequences should it fail. And you want to drag an innocent soul into this? I can’t allow it.” 

“Do you feel placing judgment on someone before they’ve been given a chance to prove otherwise is a fair assessment?” Gandalf countered.

Balin swept his gaze over to one of the windows. The sun was just reaching midday and there were still some hours before the counsel. For all they knew the hobbit could very well decline the offer the moment it was presented and it would be done. 

“I need you to trust me when I say Mr. Baggins may have more to offer to this quest than you realize,” Gandalf urged.

“You don’t give me much to work with, Tharkûn. Only this feeling you have,” Balin shook his head, “How can we know? It’s clear he’s never ventured farther his front gate.”

“We won’t know,” the wizard replied, “Not until Mr. Baggins shows us what he is capable of. But perhaps, in the meantime, we need to put a bit of faith in the things we do not know. This quest… there is no simple answer, nor definite solution. You know this.”

Balin nodded. He knew that well enough. When word reached the Blue Mountains that Dain Ironfoot wanted to retake the Lonely Mountain it sent an unsettling split throughout the remaining dwarven settlements. Many felt it was a fool’s errand, while others saw it as an opportunity to reclaim a homeland, a past and name long since lost. He didn’t know what to think at the time. Many years had passed since the tragedy and many of the dwarves of Erebor had resettled in Eren Luid, in the Blue Mountains and created a good life for themselves under the fair leadership of Dís, daughter of Thrain.

Part of him felt a sense of duty to a cause such as this, but another part of him feared the fallout would bring with it more consequences.  
Regardless, Dain had at least deserved an audience on the matter. And if Balin was to act as the consultant between the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills, so be it. He could put his personal feelings aside if it meant an alternative solution could be agreed upon. Perhaps it would not come to the conclusion he feared. 

“Very well, though I stand by my statement: Mr. Baggins will get to make his own decision about whether he wants to join,” Balin said finally, “I refuse to let you coerce him into it.”

The wizard didn’t answer, but that was fine. Balin needed to get back to the company. There were preparations that needed to be made and he didn’t trust the other dwarves to not make a mess of it. They were still a little bitter over having to stay here and the last thing Balin wanted to deal with was pissed off elves.

\--

Breakfast had been quiet, and lunch just as uneventful but he needed to get his head on straight and prepare for the days events. While there was still some time to pass until the meeting that afternoon Bilbo occupied himself by browsing through the tomes in the library. Anything he could find on the Lonely Mountain would have been ideal; there were a few books with a list of lineages but that was as much as he was going to find. An elven library was probably not best place to look for information on dwarven history.

The previous day’s spat wormed its way back into his thoughts, giving Bilbo pause. In retrospect it seemed a silly thing to get so heated over, frustration and exhaustion the more likely the culprit of both of their outbursts but that did not mean he wanted to let the row burn a bridge he had barely begun to create. He’d have to find the young dwarf sometime today, maybe after the meeting, or perhaps at supper. A good talk, just the two of them, would do more good than none at all. 

Bilbo closed the book he was paging through and shelved it, giving the librarian a small ‘thank you’ before heading out. He still needed to pick up his laundry and change before heading to the infirmary to receive a last check up before the days end. As comfortable as the elven attire was he fancied being back in his normal clothes. 

“Bilbo! There you are.”

Bilbo tensed slightly and turned toward the voice, surprised to see a dwarf coming up the walkway. It was Bofur, if he could remember correctly, though the dwarf’s hat should have been a dead giveaway, the ridiculous turned up ear flaps were not something easily forgotten. Bofur smiled brightly at him as they drew closer, the same jolly twinkle in his eyes that Bilbo had found himself drawn into the first they met.  
He let his shoulders relax, regarding the dwarf with a small nod, and a smile of his own, once they met halfway. 

“Good day,” he said politely.

“Same to you,” the dwarf returned, stopping just short of where Bilbo stood and giving the hobbit a once over, “You off to somewhere?”

Bilbo nodded, shifting his weight slightly between his feet, “I am, though that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. If that’s what you found me for.”

“May I join you, then?” Bofur asked, motioning in the general direction Bilbo had been heading. 

“Of course.”

They headed down the pathway at an easy pace, Bofur engaging him in conversations about the weather or the food, or how different elven architecture was compared to dwarven architecture. Bilbo found himself relaxing into the exchange, chuckling every once in a while when Bofur’s humor slipped through, and listening intently when Bofur talked life in the Blue Mountains. The comfort he felt before, when they were on the road reveling song and tales, returned.

They rounded the corner just before the wash area, Bilbo assuring the dwarf he didn’t need to wait around only to have Bofur wave it off and say ‘it’s of no trouble to me, Mr. Baggins’. Bilbo relented and briskly retrieved his clothes from a lovely dark-haired elf maid, who smiled radiantly at him as he thanked her before turning back to her work. He made his way back up to Bofur and they continued their talk as they walked back to Bilbo’s lodgings. 

“I feel like it’s been ages since any of us talked to you. Even though we saw you yesterday, for a bit…”” Bofur mentioned, crunching a dried leaf beneath his boot absentmindedly when they reached Bilbo’s quarters. 

“I suppose I did kinda run off suddenly,” Bilbo said quietly, as he set the clothes on the bed, “I… think I may have made a bad impression on Kili…”

He wasn’t really sure why he phrased it that way but Bofur’s soft hum and lack of comment was reassuring enough that he didn’t dwell on it. He hadn’t considered whether or not anyone else in the company heard the argument, and just the thought of it made his cheeks flush a bit. 

“I wouldn’t mind him too much,” Bofur said, leaning up against the doorframe, “He’s a fiery one, and a bit of a hardhead who can sometimes say things without thinking.” 

Bilbo ran finger along the seam of his red traveling jacket. It almost looked brand new with how thoroughly the elves had cleaned it.

“I still feel like I need to apologize to him,” he said with a dry laugh. 

“Well, he’ll be at supper. You could talk to him then. Of course, only if you fancy joining us.”

Bilbo turned to look at Bofur, the dwarf giving him a kind smile. 

“I’ll consider it,” he replied, “Maybe I’ll catch him after the meeting this afternoon.”

“Oh, you’re attending that too?” Bofur inquired.

“Yes, apparently Gandalf wants me to be there. Why? I’m not really sure… Though Lord Elrond said something about the Lonely Mountain.”

The odd look that flashed briefly over Bofur’s face wasn’t lost on him, but Bilbo decided he did not want to question it. There was enough on his mind today already.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Bofur broke the silence, straightening himself from the doorframe, and bowing slightly. Bilbo gave him a curt nod, watching the dwarf leave only to see him come back suddenly.

“I almost forgot,” the dwarf said, reaching hastily into a small pouch on his belt, “Ah, there it is.”

Bilbo gave him a curious look, stepping closer when Bofur held something out to him. He almost dropped the dress shirt he was holding when upon closer inspection he found the small item to be his locket. 

“You found—“ He could hardly form words, taking the locket carefully and opening it. There was something different about the portraits. 

“A few of the clasps broke so I had Bifur fix them,” Bofur explained, “And, well, the portraits... they got a little ruined. The paper, that is, so I etched their likeness into a bit of metal and inlaid that instead. So now they won’t get faded or ruined...” 

Bilbo didn’t know what to say, but the etchings looked practically indistinguishable from the portraits. 

“I- This…” he looked up at the dwarf, trying to push away the wetness that threatened to build in his eyes, “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” Bofur returned, giving Bilbo a gentle pat on the shoulder, and wink, before turning and heading out the door. 

Bilbo gazed back down at the locket, closing it carefully and placing a small kiss on the smooth oval surface, before placing it about his neck and returning to task of changing. He still needed to visit the infirmary before the counsel. 

\--

By the time the escort arrived at his room to take him to the counsel Bilbo had worked himself into a nervous mess again, though he did his best to put on a casual smile and push any signs of anxiety down. The last thing he needed to do was make a fool of himself in front of Lord Elrond and Gandalf. 

The walk wasn’t far, the chamber secluded from the open air of Rivendell save for a few windows higher up on the elegant vaulted ceiling that let the afternoon light in. A long table sat in the center of the room, six chairs arranged on either side with two sitting at the head and foot. It was here Bilbo found Gandalf, Balin, Dwalin and Fili. Gandalf was seated in the chair to the right of the head of the table, and Balin, Dwalin and Fili in the three chairs across from him. 

The escort led Bilbo to the seat next to Gandalf, pulling the chair back and placing a small stool before it so the hobbit could get up with ease. Once he was settled the elf moved the chair a bit closer to the table before bowing dutifully and exiting the room. 

Bilbo glanced around the table again, giving the dwarves a small nod of acknowledgement of which only Balin really reciprocated. Dwalin looked like he would rather be elsewhere and Fili was fiddling absentmindedly with the fur on his jacket. Gandalf looked oddly content, which Bilbo found a little unnerving for some reason. He’d sat in on counsel meetings in the Shire with more cheer than this, and that was saying something. 

Lord Elrond entered not to long after, disrupting the heavy silence for a brief moment but perhaps raising the tension on the dwarven side of the table a little. Bilbo shifted in his seat a bit, keeping his eyes fixed on a design on the table as Elrond spoke a few words to his steward before crossing the room smoothly to take his spot at the head of the table. 

“I apologize for the delay,” he started, folding his gown neatly about his lap and sweeping his gaze across the table briefly, “Shall we get begin?”

Gandalf straightened himself a bit more and nodded toward Balin. The elder dwarf looked slightly reluctant but stood and pulled out a few folded pieces of parchment from a bag at his side. He unfolded them both on the table, one looked to be a missive of sorts written in a language Bilbo hadn’t seen before. The other was a map, a detailed peak drawn in the upper left-hand corner with a twisting figure above it in dark blue ink. Bilbo sat up a bit in his seat to get a better look, eyes falling onto the bold writing around the image.

“The Lonely Mountain…” he murmured to himself, “Here of old was Thrain, King Under the Mountain.” 

“I am unsure how much you already know,” Balin said, clearing his throat and pushing the missive toward Elrond slightly, “But as I’m sure Gandalf may have informed you by now, a couple months ago Dain Ironfoot sent out a message to the rest of the dwarven settlements, regarding Erebor.”

Elrond took the parchment and read it over. 

“My company have been sent at the request of Her Majesty, Dís, Lady of the Blue Mountains, to hold a counsel with Lord Dain and come to an agreement with how to proceed,” Balin concluded. 

Elrond placed the missive back on the table. 

“So a decision on whether or not to march on the mountain has not been made yet?” he inquired, sending a pointed look in Gandalf’s direction. 

“No,” Balin answered quickly, “Lady Dís did not feel it right to send warriors to the cause without knowing the extent of Lord Dain’s plan.” 

“I see,” Elrond replied, turning his gaze to the map, “And this?”

Bilbo saw something flicker in Balin’s eyes. Reservation, perhaps, or maybe it was reluctance, considering the question also caused Dwalin and Fili to shift in their seats as well. 

“It was requested by Dís, I am told,” Gandalf cut in, “For academic purposes.”

Bilbo felt himself involuntarily wince. Either Gandalf was a terrible liar or he was playing Elrond for a fool. It was a dubious claim at best, even Bilbo could see that and although he did not know what significance it held, the general air about the three dwarves hinted that some information was being left out. 

“There is a passage,” Gandalf continued, pointing to the margin on the left side of the paper, “It speaks of a message hidden somewhere within this map. I am unable to discern what kind of message it is referring to, so I thought it might be best to run it past you.”

“And this has no bearing on this counsel you wish to hold with Lord Dain?” Elrond turned his gaze to the dwarves. Balin shook his head. 

Elrond pulled the map toward him and studied the page, carefully turning it over and holding it up to the golden light of the afternoon. 

“I will have a scholar look at it this evening,” he said, placing it back down on the table next to the missive. 

“I’d prefer it say in my hands until then,” Balin said, “And that we are present during its examination.” 

“As you wish.”

Bilbo watched as Elrond pushed the papers toward Balin, who folded them neatly and placed them back into his bag. Fili and Dwalin seemed to relax a bit, and the air lightened. 

“If I may ask,” he spoke up tentatively, a little unnerved when all eyes turned to him. It was almost like they forgot he was there, “I... couldn’t help but notice a detail on the map. Um, the creature, just above the peak, what does it represent?”

“’Tis a dragon,” Dwalin said bluntly. 

“O-oh,” Bilbo replied, a little unsure what to say next. He could see that it was a dragon, but often images on maps served a purpose or conveyed some type of information. They weren’t put there without reason. 

“I think it might be appropriate to let Mr. Baggins in on a little bit more than that, don’t you think?” Gandalf said, “I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Dwalin huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair but offering no explanation. Bilbo shrunk back a bit. It was fine, he supposed. It was kind of a stupid question.

“It is the dragon that felled the kingdom of Erebor sixty years ago,” Balin said. Bilbo brought his gaze back up to the table. 

“No one really knows how it happened,” Balin continued grimly, “There were no signs, no warning. Half the kingdom was up in flames before anyone could do anything.” 

Bilbo swallowed thickly, turning his eyes down to his hands and feeling even more stupid for making Balin bring up something that was clearly painful. It would explain why the older dwarf didn’t go into detail when they’d been talking on the way to Bree all those days ago. The pieces were all starting to fit together. The reservation of the dwarves during this meeting was all starting to make sense. This was no mere venture. This quest was the reopening of a wound, one that had been left to time but hadn’t quite healed properly. 

“I want to help,” he declared. 

All eyes were on him once again. Bilbo took a steady breath, standing up on his seat so he could be more fully at his height. In any other situation he might’ve found this to be wholly inappropriate but as it was he felt no such embarrassment. 

“I’m not sure what I could offer,” he kept going, looking between the three dwarves, “But… if you will have me, I would be most honored to lend you whatever aid I can.”

The room was silent, almost as if his words had halted time itself. Bilbo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. He kept posture tall and his shoulders square, hands steady at his sides. It was Fili who broke the silence.

“You would offer yourself to our cause,” he spoke softly, “Even when you have no reason to?”

“Do I need a reason?” Bilbo returned. 

The room fell quiet again, the dwarves turning to whisper amongst themselves. Bilbo let his shoulders relax a bit and flexed his fingers a bit. His palms were still a little sweaty but he found he didn’t much care. He heard Gandalf chuckle softly next to him. 

“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Baggins,” Balin said, once the three had finished conversing. The older dwarf opened his bag again and rummaged around in the contents, pulling forth a small bundle of paper and passing it across the table. Bilbo took it gingerly. 

“It’s a contract, if you will,” Balin explained, “Just some basic information regarding your contribution, expenses and the like, your consent to take upon this quest.”

Bilbo unfolded the parchment and quickly scanned over the information. There were a lot of details despite the document’s small size.

“Would you like me to sign it now?” he asked.

“Take the time you need with it, laddie,” Balin reassured, “We will be here for a bit longer. Just come find me when you’ve made your decision.”

Bilbo nodded, taking a seat again as he folded the contract back up and placed it safely in his coat. 

“If that is all that needs to be discussed...?” Elrond prompted.

The dwarves and Gandalf both seemed to agree on this. Elrond adjourned the meeting and each went their separate way. Bilbo walked briskly back to his quarter, a little eager to read over the contract while the meeting was still fresh in his head. He felt lighter and in a surprisingly good mood. The anxiety he felt that morning had all but vanished, and he felt like he was beginning to repair the broken rapport with the dwarves. Things were working out better than he’d imagined. 

Perhaps it was time he paid a certain young dwarf a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally this chapter is finished! It's a little dialogue heavy but there was a lot that needed discussing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
